Good Neighbors
by Bike Chanderson
Summary: Future!AU Mike finds out he has a very nosy neighbor. T for language.


**Authors Note: My best friend and I like to tell each other AU Bike Chanderson stories. Occasionally they get typed up. I thought I would welcome my readers into one of my AUs. Enjoy! (This one shot has not been beta'd)**

* * *

His feet moved over the wet cement with a determined, quick pace. Flecks of water danced around his toes as he made his way down the street, cursing under his breath slightly as he shoes bobbed carelessly in his hands. He was not expecting it to rain during his walk home, but the weather defied his wishes and poured down sheets of clear liquid in protest when he reached his normal half-way point. Michael didn't like interruptions, he liked routine and structure. He liked things that never changed. Even though his career, as the most celebrated choreographer in the Broadway circuit, was a contradiction to his habits, he still twitched when he was running late. He still grimaced when someone changed an appointment with him at the last minute.

But sometimes Michael felt animalistic restlessness in him, pulling at him to be more fluid and let things happen without them being penciled in his datebook weeks beforehand. He remembered a time when he didn't worry so much about time, when he used to kick back and relax without feeling the responsibility of life weighing him down. The only moments he had that now were the times he got to dance without anyone taking notes, and when he got to watch others mold their bodies into art as they perfected a move or simply tried it for the first time. He lived off those moments of fluidity and grace. Dance was the only time he admired the beauty of change, every other time he found himself shy and frightened.

The rained caused his hair to run down in front of his eyes and he made an effort to push the black strands away only to have them be pushed back by the downpour. He huffed and cursed and built up his speed, the _slap slap_ of his feet against the wet pavement a distant sound to the pounding rain.

His stomach churned happily as he rounded the last corner, but dropped when he saw a man sitting on the floor of the entrance to his apartment building. The man was certainly not homeless, his blindingly white tux portrayed that that wasn't the case at all, but he did look rather pathetic with sheets of paper over his head, which were doing absolutely nothing to protect him from the rain, and his suit jacket soaked completely through. His hair was a mop of curls that swayed over his forehead while his eyes were wide and almost fearfully defiant. His lips were moving while his black dress shoes tapped the pavement rhythm with his inaudible singing. When he caught Michael staring at him his face relaxed into a bright smile of relief, it caused Michael's stomach to churn pleasantly again.

"Thank god," the man said when Mike managed to reach the building.

"Can I help you with something," he returned with a curious smile.

"Yeah, you could let me in, please?"

"Are you visiting? Selling something," Mike let his eyes fall over the man's suit again, closer up he realized how wet it was, sticking to its owner like it was painted on. "Singing telegram?" He mused as he pulled out his keys, it was difficult to get the object out of his soaking pants but he managed to extract them.

He pushed the key into the lock just as the man rolled his eyes and tugged at the center of his dress shirt so it pulled away from flesh for a few moments and then the rain drenched it back against his stomach. "I was hoping no one would remember my singing telegram days." He smiled expectantly at Michael and he got a half-hearted and confused smile in return. "I live in this building."

"Oh?" Mike eyed him again more carefully, even though he did a good eyeful only moments before. "You don't work for someone do you? You aren't here to deliver papers to one of my unsuspecting neighbors or something?" He opened the door a little so only he could squeeze through if he had to.

"I live right across from you, Michael. Room 119," the man pulled at the handle and surprised Michael with his strength. He moved past and sighed heavily as he entered the low lit hallway of the apartment building. "Your dog even knows me; I give him a treat every time I see him." He turned to look over at Mike just so the dim light caught the outline of his fine features.

"Those little brown milk bones?"

The man smiled proudly and nodded his head while his shoulders moved back so he could shuck off his drenched. Mike couldn't figure the guy out, he seemed happy and nice but his knowledge about Mike's name and the fact that he had a dog caused to be a little discouraged and uncomfortable…but also intriguing.

"Yeah, he likes those, but they really make him smell."

The response to this fact was a faint blush as the man ducked his head down. He turned toward the stairs and said loudly, "thank god, it was so cold out there. Silk is so thin." Mike followed him up the stairs with mild amusement. That was until the brighter lights of the next floor cascaded over his neighbors wet and nearly clear dress shirt. The fabric was still clinging to his skin and Mike couldn't help but examine the fine curve of his back and the firmness of his shoulders. Silk was definitely a thin fabric. He felt a rush of that same restlessness as Blaine turned down the hallway that they both apparently lived on.

"What's your name?" Michael asked after swallowing down the feeling.

"Blaine, Blaine Anderson."

"I'm sorry I didn't know your name like you knew mine," he said pathetically as they stopped between their apartments.

"Oh don't worry about it, I'm just a very nosy neighbor. I should be exiled from the building because of my snooping," Blaine laughed happily and Mike couldn't help but grin in response. Blaine made him feel incredibly light and easy to smile.

He watched as Blaine turned around again and reached above the threshold of his door, searching for something while Michael's eyes searched over his back again. New flesh and muscles appearing as Blaine strained up on his toes to reach something. His eyes landed on Blaine's ass just as the latter swore and hit his palm against the door. He quickly jumped out of his lingering gaze and turned to unlock his door. There was a small gasp as the door creaked.

"I thought you were already in your room. You know I never hear you come home at night, thought it was just natural for you to be silent." Blaine explained quickly to Mike's back. Mike turned his head and raised a curious eyebrow; Blaine really was a nosy neighbor. "Anyway, I better go talk to Mr. Andrews about getting a spare key. I locked my keys in my room and the other key is probably…" he trailed off quietly as if he was lost in his thoughts. His eyebrows were furrowed and his lips were turned down in a thoughtful pout. Blaine was a really nosy neighbor, but he was also really cute.

"Andrews won't be up this late," Michael said quietly as he pushed his own door open. He nodded his head toward the room when Blaine looked up at him, gesturing for his defeated neighbor to enter. For all he knew, Blaine was a serial killer and this was his way of catching his victims. Serial killer or not, Michael was never one to avoid giving someone help, especially someone as interesting as Blaine Anderson.

As the door shut behind them a loud bark rang out from the other room and the clicking of nails on the wooden floor gave both of them time to prepare for a large black Labrador bounding around the corner and jumping over the couch and into the hallway.

"White suit, white suit," was Blaine's first reaction as he ran behind Michael.

"Down Keating," Michael said as he held back a smile. He snapped his fingers and pointed to the couch and the dog obeyed with a small whine

"I'm not afraid of dogs, I'm afraid of dry cleaning bills," Blaine explained. It was only then did Mike realize that Blaine was grabbing onto his shoulders.

"He's perfectly clean, Blaine. Being an inside dog has its perks. Besides, weren't you just standing out in the street in very strong downpour?" He chuckled, steadily finding his neighbor more amusing then nosy.

"Rain isn't dirty until it hits the ground, and I had my sheet music to kind of protect me," he heard the defensive pride in Blaine's voice and was almost tempted to apologize, almost.

"Sheet music?" Mike looked back and raised an eyebrow. "I might have something you can change into if you want to let me go?"

"Right," Blaine blushed and released Mike from his grip. Mike led Blaine to his bedroom, feeling a weird that this complete stranger was getting a layout of his home. He absentmindedly dropped his shoes into the basket next to his bed. "I'll call Mr. Andrews tomorrow about the spare key. If it's okay for me to spend the night here?"

"Nope, I'm going to give you some clothing and a bedroll and you can sleep in the hallway," Michael said with obvious sarcasm as he dug through his drawers for clothing that would fit Blaine's smaller frame. He finally found a pair of sweatpants he used to take to dance practice in high school as well as his high school soccer jersey. His mom was right, he never threw anything away. He tossed the clothes to Blaine. He moved out of the room while Blaine changed and went about feeding his dog. "So why was your umbrella sheet music?" He called back while he busied himself with scratching his dog's head, definitely not thinking about the fact that a handsome stranger was getting undressed in his room.

"I used it in a performance at a wedding tonight, hence the tux," Blaine's voice was muffled and Mike couldn't help but imagine that he was putting Mike's tattered old jersey over his head.

"So you're a wedding singer?"

"Anything is better than a telegram singer!"

"So you really were one?"

"I never joke about my career, Michael," he responded as he exited Mike's bedroom. His suit was hanging over his arm and his hair was still wildly curly and now frizzy in the heated apartment.

Mike smiled a little, liking the way his full name sounded out of Blaine's mouth. He didn't normally like people calling him that because his parents usually called him that but it worked so smoothly with Blaine. He had just the right amount of elegance in his tone that pronounced Michael's name as an identity instead of just a title.

"I can get a bag for your clothes? Unless you want to use my dryer?"

"Nah, it's better to air dry it, I'll take the bag."

"In the kitchen underneath the sink," Mike gestured to the door opposite of his bedroom and made his way back to his room to change as well. Though it was cold and rainy outside, Mike chose to don his gym shorts and a T-Shirt, his apartment building always had random heating and air-conditioning problems and he figured if he got cold he could just wrap a blanket around himself.

When he stepped back into his TV room it was to see Blaine sitting on his couch, stroking a very pleased Keating. Michael wasn't surprised; the dog never got love from anyone from him. It was always Mike and his dog, never anyone else. It was a pleasing domestic scene and Mike felt another approving churn in his stomach as he sat down on the other side of Keating.

"Thank you, Michael," Blaine said before he looked up at him. "I really appreciate that you are doing this for me when you hardly know me."

"Just doing my neighborly duty," Michael said, but he still wondered if he would do it if it was that loud guy that was always playing the drums in the apartment to his right, or the crazy lady to his left that always shouted out the window at people walking by. It was then he realized that Blaine was the guy that always got in arguments with his boyfriend and sometimes made out with said boyfriend in the hallway. Michael didn't recognize him because his face was usually covered by lips and hands and his hair was usually gelled down…not that Michael spent that much time watching two guys make out in front of his home.

"Bah, a lot better than our other neighbors."

"Yeah, I think you should be glad that Ms. To-the-left didn't stumble upon your situation. She probably would have called the police and said that there was some crazy curly haired guy singing telegrams at her apartment," they both laughed for a few moments before Blaine ended with an abrupt yawn.

"So," Mike looked Blaine up and down as the latter rested his head on the back of the couch. "Bed or couch?"

"I thought it was going to be a bedroll," Blaine arched an eyebrow but his mouth spoke in teasing as it turned up in a small smile. "I'll take the bed if it's not too much trouble."

"If it was trouble I wouldn't have offered it up, I just hope you don't mind sharing."

* * *

When Mike awoke he felt something move beneath him, he would have naturally assumed it was Keating deciding not to sleep on the couch because of the thunderstorm that was booming outside the entire night, but this form felt more smooth than furry and he was pretty sure Keating didn't smell like coffee and faded hair gel. He nuzzled in close to a head of curls, the prickly feeling drawing him into a comfortable daze that mixed with his morning lethargy. Usually Mike was fully awake the minute his eyes were opened but this morning felt different and he liked it, no matter how much the back of his mind was yelling at him to get up and take his dog for their morning run.

"You have to go," a voice mumbled near him. "Daniel, you have to go. I'm still mad at you."

Mike quickly pulled away in the realization that he was cuddling with his neighbor that he hardly knew. He mentally laughed at himself as he pulled his arm away from around Blaine's waist.

"Wait, no, don't go…"Blaine tugged at Michael's hand and placed it on his own hip. "Wait for me to wake up a little and I'll let you make it up to me." It was when he was pulling Mike's hand further down near his hip that Mike pulled his hand back and swallowed.

"Blaine," he poked at Blaine's side while the latter made a sort of huffing noise that sounded adorably disappointed. "Blaine, this isn't Daniel or whatever," he let out a calm laugh and poked Blaine again, a little harder.

Blaine turned around slowly and looked up at Michael, his eyes widened after a few seconds of lazy blinking. "Oh. I'm dreaming? I'm dreaming. This is me dreaming," Blaine muttered as he scooted away from Mike and fell off the side of the bed. "Okay, I'm awake because that hurt." Mike's amused smile grew as a head of curls and big hazel poked up from behind his bed. "Oh right, last night. I was locked out and you let me stay here. Sorry," he slowly stood up and flashed a warm and confused smile. Mike slid of the bed and brushed his hands down the fabric of his shirt. "I should get going."

Urgency ran through Mike and he quickly spoke up, "wait, you don't want breakfast or anything," he glanced at his clock. "Do you really think that Andrews will be up at 7:30?"

"Don't you have your morning run?" Blaine's face reddened as Mike furrowed his eyebrows. "I just…I see you leave in the mornings. I'm usually up around that time?"

"Yeah," Mike nodded, remembering that a few times a week he would either be throwing his boyfriend out or knocking on the door telling his boyfriend to let him back in. Mike never looked at him, feeling awkward that he was walking out in the middle of drama. "I've seen you a few times."

"Anyway yeah, I should go."

"I can m-miss a day," Mike couldn't believe what he was saying. He had been running every morning since he started dancing in high school. He couldn't take it back and something about Blaine's smile made him glad that he couldn't.

"Okay, I'll have breakfast," Blaine licked his lips and looked to the kitchen. "What do you have?"

"Pancakes?"

With that Blaine was making a beeline to the kitchen while Mike called out for his dog. "Keating," he peered around the corner to see his dog sitting by the door with his leash in his mouth and his tail wagging expectantly. "Not today, dude."

Blaine was sitting at the table, looking out the window with a sort of transfixed expression as he leaned on one hand. "I love your view, I love your windows. My windows are tiny and they face an alley way." Mike followed Blaine's gaze and was pleased to see the sunrise against the NYC skyline. He breathed in and out and grinned.

"It's a nice view," he said as he turned to open the freezer. He pulled out a plastic zip bag of pre-made pancakes.

"It's a nice apartment," Blaine mumbled before he looked back at Mike. "Not making them fresh?"

"I'm a terrible cook, honestly. But my mom still likes to take care of me so she made a bunch the last time she was visiting and froze them for me. They aren't freshly cooked but still homemade," he opened his cupboards and pulled two glass plates out, setting them down in front of him. "How many did you want?"

"Three," Blaine said instantly, licking his lips eagerly. Mike glanced from him to Keating, who was sitting in the threshold staring at his bowl expectantly, and realized they both had the same look of hunger in their eyes so he quickly loaded the frozen pancakes onto a tray and slid them into the toaster oven.

"Give them about ten minutes," Mike said with a patient smile.

"You don't have a microwave?"

"No, no way. Never," he replied in a stern voice, causing Blaine to cast a mischievous stare at him as if he was setting up to tease. "Microwaves suck flavor out of everything."

"I thought you weren't a good cook."

"I'm not, but I love good food."

"I'm a good cook."

"Okay, Mr. Microwave," Michael said lightly as he sat down in the other seat across from Blaine.

"Hey, if I had an oven or a stove I would totally cook all of the time. Also, if I had the money to buy decent food," Blaine pouted and folded his arms over the table, glaring. He was daring Mike to judge him.

"No oven or stove? What do you have?"

"A microwave!" Blaine beamed proudly. A small appreciative laugh escaped Michael's throat before he could stop it, Blaine was too boyishly adorable. He never expected half of the loud, arguing couple across the hall to be so happy. He was about to comment on it when Blaine ducked his head down and his fingers traced the lines in the wood of Michael's table. "This is a nice table."

"It's imported from Germany, I had it specially made," Mike said before he could stop himself, he was having a lot of trouble controlling his words around Blaine.

"Germany?" Blaine stopped tracing his finger on the table and pulled his arms back by his side. "Man, you have an imported table, specially made, and I have a coffee table that I picked up at a Walmart." He looked around the kitchen with a sort of wistful expression. "My apartment has two rooms, the bathroom and then the rest of it, kitchen, bed room, TV room, all in one space. How much did this apartment cost you?"

"I don't think I should tell you that."

"Okay, fine. Where do you work?"

"I work in show business. I'm a choreographer."

"And you live in this part of town?" Blaine's eyebrows raised up into his curly hair and Mike was feeling extremely self conscious.

"I-It's close to my studio and I don't need a lot of room so it was cheap and, I've made a lot of adjustments. Andrews didn't really mind, he said he could sell it for more if I moved out." He chuckled happily, knowing that he would never move out. That would mean too much change.

"How long have you lived here?"

"A little bit before I graduated from Joffrey, about six years. It was really cheap as you know. My apartment used to be two rooms as well," he was blushing now. It felt like he was rubbing all of his accomplishments in Blaine's face. "You moved here before the drummer and after the crazy lady. What are their names?"

"I don't know. I avoid the crazy lady and I only hear the drummer. But I know some of our other neighbors. There is a guy named Dave and his boyfriend Kurt that live upstairs. I've ran into them at a couple bars before." Blaine pursed his lips together and rested his hand back onto the table as he thought about the rest of the building. "Right next to me is empty for now, I think Mr. Andrews is trying to rent it out to that guy that sometimes raps at the corner of the street with some of his friends, he's talking about finally getting the elevator fixed so the guy can use it, he's in a wheelchair."

"Yeah, I know who you are talking about," Mike remembered seeing him a few times during his morning runs. "You really are nosy aren't you?" He commented with a good amount of archness so Blaine would catch the teasing as he stood up to retrieve the now steaming pancakes.

"I really am. If we lived in the suburbs I would constantly be peeking over fences and saying hello to people while they had family barbeques or something," Blaine chuckled heartily.

Michael slid a stack of three pancakes onto Blaine's plate and slid it across the table to end up in front of him. "Did you want syrup?"

Blaine stuck out his tongue and shook his head vigorously. "You definitely don't know how to cook," he stood up and went over to the cupboards. "Do you have powdered sugar?"

"Sugar what?" Mike asked dumbly. He listened as cupboard after cupboard opened and closed.

"Here we are," he pulled out an unopened container and set it on the table.

"Oh, my mom bought most of the stuff in those cupboards when she came to visit," Mike said nonchalantly as he picked up the container. Blaine pulled it away from him and popped the lid open. A small puff of powder flew out of the container as if the container was just begging to be opened after such a long time of being ignored. Michael watched with interest as Blaine sprinkled bits of white powder over the golden brown pancakes.

"Try it," Blaine encouraged.

Mike trusted his judgment and dug a fork into the middle of his stack, slicing the pancake down the middle and taking a good slice of it onto his utensil. He took a good bite out of it, making sure to get the part with the most sugar on it. He hummed in response to the taste in his mouth and smiled happily over at Blaine.

"You like it don't you," Blaine said in a teasingly childish voice.

"Yeah," was the response after he managed to swallow the bite. "Yeah, it was really good. I'm impressed what something so simple can change."

"Just a few dashes of something different can make something so much better," Blaine tilted his head back and forth as he enjoyed his pancakes.

* * *

After Blaine had a glass of orange juice, retrieved his tux, and called the landlord the two of them waited in the threshold of Michael's door as Keating watched sadly from the couch. "He's sad. I guess he thought he had another someone to play with," Mike noted as he looked back at that pouting face.

"It's not like I live across the hallway from you or anything. Though we have avoided each other thus far. We could always go back to doing that," as Blaine said it there was a loud bark and a whimper.

"I think he would like to see you over here more often," Mike said slowly. "You could prove that you're a supposedly good cook or not. You can use my stove and everything."

Blaine beamed happily and nodded his head just as a grunt came from the end of the hallway. They looked over to see Mr. Andrews trudging along the hallway and breathing heavily like it was a long walk up one flight of stairs.

"I'll return your clothing when I can get into my own," Blaine said quickly, sticking out his hand for Mike to shake. Mike took it and grinned.

"Alright, I'll see you around," he ended with a very pathetic wave before shutting his door.

* * *

Blaine Anderson was not a stranger in Mike's life. He was no longer that neighbor that occasionally slipped Keating a dog treat while Michael was distracted with a phone call or locking his door , or that neighbor that fought with his boyfriend every other day, or that neighbor that Mike heard singing as he walked down the hallway. Blaine had a name now, and a face and a smile. He had long, dark eyelashes and he had lips, two of Mike's favorite traits that he couldn't help but noticed when they spoke. They talked with each other often, in the hallway, when Blaine would complain about the terrible heating in his room during stormy nights, when Blaine would be invited to watch a late night Friday movie while said heating was broken (of course Mike would only let him in if he promised to make soup for the two of them and Keating.)

Yes, the two of them were good friends. They got drunk together, they laughed about their other neighbors together, they even ate lunch together whenever Michael had his break and could return to his building. He didn't use to return home during his lunch break, he used to sit down with a packed lunch at the studio and ate there in silence while his dancers would go out in groups to different nearby restaurants. But now he had reasons to sit at his imported table, and reasons to expand the length of lunch break, much to his dancers' pleasure. All of those reasons were Blaine's laughter and his smiles and his words.

It seemed that Blaine had finally broken that shell that was Michael's routines. With Blaine around Mike found himself dancing more, spinning around his apartment when he was alone and causing Keating to bark at his feet. His morning runs turned into little adventures as he went different paths around New York City and he even shopped at a different grocery store on the other side of town…once.

Life had improved for Michael, but with the six months of improvements came the things that stung him with heart ache, making him wish he never met Blaine.

"Hanging out tonight, Blaine?" Michael asked as he swallowed another bite of his sandwich. Blaine had made both of them roast beef sandwiches with glorious amounts of fresh vegetables. Blaine was staring at his sandwich with intensity, his eyebrow furrowed and his lips in a pout as he looked at the layers of bread, roast beef, lettuce, tomato, onions, and jalapenos. "Blaine? Hello?"

"Uh...what?" Blaine finally looked up and smiled back at Michael, causing the latter's chest to burn in pleased but aching way. "Oh right, tonight. Not tonight." The pleasure faded while the aching increased as Mike thought of the possibilities as to why Blaine had decided they wouldn't hang out. "Daniel and I are going out"

"I thought you broke up last week," Mike's voice portrayed no tone of surprise. This is how things always were.

"We did," Blaine's cheeks reddened a little, "but we're giving it another try."

"What's this, the 500th try?"

"Michael, I know you don't like him but I can't just let him go, I've been with him for-"

"9 years, since you graduated from high school, I know. That doesn't mean you have to be with him forever, Blaine. Daniel's an okay guy, I'm serious. But you guys don't make each other happy," Mike didn't like Daniel, but he didn't have any good reasons to support why he didn't like him. He chalked it all up to jealousy. "I just think it would be better for both of you if you just stopped hanging on."

"Michael, I just turned 28," Blaine said pathetically, "what else am I going to have? My music career isn't going anywhere, I live in a two room apartment, and recently I've been eating food that you buy. You're like my dad or something." Michael flinched at the comment and took a deep breath. "Plus, it's not like anyone is lining up to ride the Blaine train or anything. I'm just some kid that sings at weddings and in restaurants."

He wanted to reach forward and pat Blaine on the shoulder but the father comment was still ringing like a bad joke in the back of his mind. He wished that Blaine knew how wanted was and could be. Michael was beyond the point of caring if Blaine ended up with him; he only wanted Blaine to be happy no matter how much he had to suffer through it.

"First of all, I don't ever want to hear you say the phrase 'Blaine Train' again, okay?" That got an appreciative laugh. "Second of all, I told you that I have connections with all the right people, I will get you an audition and everything and you will blow their minds. Stop being so prideful and let me help you with that. Third of all? Thirdly? What's the righ- that doesn't matter, if you keep holding on to Daniel and if he keeps holding onto you, then neither of you will be happy and you know it. You may think that there is no one else out there but there are so many guys that would love to have a chance with you. You just don't see them because you don't realize how awesome you are. "

He didn't know why he was wasting his time. Every time he gave the same speech and it always went over Blaine's head. He examined Blaine for the usual signs of confusion but instead the latter just watched his sandwich. A jalapeno dropped out the edge of it and onto the floor where Keating quickly lapped it up.

Taking Blaine's silence as a sign to leave Mike stood up, feeding the last of his sandwich to his dog before saying. "I should probably get back to work. You can stay and hang out with Keat if you promise to lock the door before you leave." He forced a friendly smile and Blaine returned with a hesitant one. "I'll see you later. " He started to turn when he felt a grip tighten around his arm. His heart instantly started racing at the contact, like it so often did.

"Wait," Blaine was looking up at him with a strange sort of urgency. "Maybe I'll be back in time to hang out? A little later?"

"Are you sure? Make up dates don't really end with time in the night to spare for friends," he meant to sound teasing and relaxed but Blaine's fingers were still gripping onto his elbow and he didn't want to think about Blaine and Daniel's nightly activities, so his voice sounded a little quiet instead of lively.

Blaine scoffed and pushed at Michael's arm as he let go, completely oblivious as always.

"I'll bug you later, Blaine."

* * *

The rest of the day was particularly stressful for Mike. The cast he was helping that day had been under his instruction for three months and they were getting ready to start their production and so he faced several newbie's throwing up out of nerves and the stress of knowing that some of the cast still couldn't get some of the simplest moves. But, like always, everything would be different when they were up there on that stage, he just needed to remind himself of that. After all of them piled out, Michael looked to his assistant, who was still stretching out.

"Brittany, you good for locking up?" He asked as he pulled his jacket on over his chest, sometimes it just got too hot in the building to keep his shirt on, and the shirt he wore that had mysteriously disappeared, he had a suspicion that one of the cast stole as a sort of joke or something.

She looked back at him and smiled happily, her blonde hair falling out of the loose pony tail that rested on her shoulder. "Sure thing, Mr. Chang. Hey, did you want to come out tonight, I'm going to a club where me and my friends are going to have a random dance contest with people we don't even know like in those cheesy dance movies."

"Let me guess, you want to ditch me with one of your friends again. I'm not looking for unexpected blind dates with lesbians."

"They aren't all lesbians."

"One of them was, it was all different kinds of awkward when you left me alone with her," Mike shook his head as he picked up his shoes. "Thanks for the offer, Brit. But I think tonight is a stay-at-home kind of night."

"You're no fun."

"I'm your boss, I have to be that way." Mike called back as he exited the room. Brittany was always trying to set him up with one of her many friends but they were all too-they were all-they had-they weren't Blaine. Mike didn't want to be with anyone while all his devotion belonged to Blaine, what kind of relationship would he have if he just ended up constantly comparing everyone he dated to Blaine? No one deserved to be used like that and so Mike refused to open up the options until he was over his neighbor.

When he returned home he found Blaine kneeling outside his room, his face was pale and his and curls were sticking up randomly out of his normally gelled down hair. He was holding on to Michael's door handle and resting his head on the threshold. He looked thoroughly spent and the sight was enough to make Mike's heart clench in sympathetic pain.

"Blaine?" He knelt down beside his neighbor and placed a hand on his back. Blaine jumped and looked over at Mike, a smile broke over his mouth, much to Michael's relief. "What happened?"

Blaine gulped and turned at the handle of Mike's door as he sat up, "I think it's over, Michael" His words were shaky. Mike had never seen him like this. Many times had Michael faced a Blaine that just got into a break-up fight with his boyfriend, but Blaine never acted his affected by it before. "And I'm locked out of my house," Blaine finished in a mournful tone.

Mike managed a sort of comforting laugh as he pulled out his own keys. A few weeks back their landlord gave Mike his own copy of Blaine's apartment key because Blaine's constant accidental loss of his own keys. Of course Michael didn't allow Blaine to have a key to his apartment, not wanting his apartment key to end up on the street along with Blaine's. He unlocked the door to Blaine's apartment and pushed it open. Blaine stood up and stumbled into the room.

"So Daniel broke up with you again?" He asked as he helped his friend onto the single piece of sitting furniture in the barren apartment, an old and beat up couch with fraying fabric.

"No, I broke it off this time," Blaine fingers were gripping onto the bridge of his nose and he groaned a little. "I need a drink." Mike didn't know if he should stay or go and was edging toward the door when Blaine spoke again. "Please stay with me tonight."

Mike nodded solemnly and went across to his room to get Keating and two bottles, one of scotch and one of vodka. When he returned to Blaine's room he found that the latter had turned on his TV and was holding his phone, staring down at it like it was going to decide his fate.

"I should call him, huh?"

"No, you shouldn't." Mike grabbed the phone and slipped it into the pocket of his gym shorts. He was still dressed in his studio gear, which meant he was still shirtless under a thin jacket. He considered going back to his apartment to change into a shirt but Blaine's room had air-conditioning problems now, so he figured he could stay in his jacket instead. "That kind of thing should wait until you are more calm and collected. Now we drink, okay?" He waved the bottle of scotch in front of Blaine's face and smiled down at him.

Blaine laughed and grabbed the bottle from his friend as he stood up. He moved toward the part of his apartment that was supposed to be his kitchen and began preparing the drinks in two plastic cups. "I can't believe I did this," he shook his head and poured the scotch into each cup. "It feels great," but his smile quickly turned into a frown as he turned back toward Mike. "I really should call him."

"Does it feel great or does it suck?" Mike asked when he grabbed one of the cups from Blaine's hand

"Both, I can't really decide which one more than the other," Blaine let out a short laugh and nudged his glass against Mike's as he sat down. They took a simultaneous drink of the liquid and Blaine leaned back against the aging couch. "You know what, Michael?"

"What?"

"I want you to contact your people and see what you can do about getting me that audition. I know it's a long shot, but I don't see the point in not taking the opportunity," Blaine downed the rest of his drink after that short speech.

"You got it, now you better not forget that you said this because you are going to audition no matter what you say tomorrow," Mike replied sternly.

It wasn't long before the two o them moved from the scotch to the vodka, getting thoroughly inebriated while they sat on the floor of Blaine's now burning hot apartment. The heat forced Michael to take off his jacket and reveal his bare chest which made him uncomfortable at first but Blaine didn't seem to mind at all so Mike eventually relaxed. Laughter rang through the apartment as they watched Michael's DVD collection of Charlie Chaplin on Blaine's tiny TV while Keating dug into Blaine's stash of secret dog treats. Not to Michael's surprise, Blaine drank more than him and ended up slurring his speech and blinking quickly at the flashing lights of the TV screen.

"You know what, Michael?" He started for the second time that night as he knocked over the empty vodka bottle. "Dan was not as funny as you, he wasn't as nice as you, but," Blaine pulled himself from the floor onto the couch were Mike was sitting with a new expression in his eyes. "But he was a really good kisser."

Mike sat back against arm of the couch in surprise as Blaine crawled onto his lap and straddled him. The warmth of their bodies suddenly connecting caused a shudder to surge through Michael and he could not think of a single thing to say in reaction to the grip of Blaine's legs so tightly around his hips.

"Are you a good kisser, Michael," Blaine's eyes moved from Mike's heaving chest to his lips.

"Blaine, you're really drunk," Michael didn't really have room to talk, but he knew who he was enough to stop Blaine from doing something he would regret. Blaine groaned and leaned his head forward onto Michael's shoulder. "Alright," he muttered as his hands ran up Michael's bare chest. It felt good to have that kind of contact with Blaine, but it also hurt him to know that it was definitely the sort of rebound actions that Blaine usually played on guys in the club the two of them sometimes went to after a Blaine and Daniel break up.

After a few moments of this awkward and yet arousing position Blaine sat up and looked Michael in the eyes. "I don't even know if you like guys," he burst into laughter, throwing his head back and gripping Michael's broad shoulders. His response was a heavily annoyed sigh, how could Blaine not know after six months of hanging around each other and telling stories of past lovers? Mike was about to say something when Blaine leaned forward and nuzzled his face against Mike's neck, his heavy breathing already giving away that he was asleep.

Blaine's apartment was very quiet without the ambience of the streets around to bump against the windows but Michael couldn't sleep for many reasons. One being his worries that if he slept on the couch his body wouldn't react kindly to the cramped position. Being a dancer, he could feel his own instrument withering away even though he was only 29. The second was the discomfort in sitting with a full grown male in his lap, splayed across his chest like he was a mattress. The third was less hard to describe, his heart was pounding too loudly for him to sleep and his eyes were too intent on staring at the way Blaine's mouth twitch as he slept.

In the end Michael decided to carry Blaine to his bed. He situated Blaine's body under the thin blankets while Keating used the opportunity to jump onto the couch. Mike turned and quickly shooed the dog away, not knowing if Blaine would approve of pets on his furniture. Mike, too tired to try and make it to his room and too eager to be close to Blaine, too drunk to care, climbed into the made and a very small effort not to touch any part of Blaine.

He felt like he only managed to sleep for a few seconds when a movement next to him woke him up. He opened his eyes a little, still feeling very asleep, and observed quietly as Blaine pulled off his shirt.

"What are you doing?" Mike mumbled as he turned onto his back, just in time to see Blaine tugging off his pants.

"Itss too hot, Michael. Can't sleep with these," Blaine's head was drooping lazily with his back to Michael as he peeled off his underwear. Mike blinked a few times, feeling suddenly very awake, and closed his eyes so he wouldn't see anything else. He heard the bed move as Blaine return to the bed. It wasn't long before Blaine was asleep again and Mike, still refusing to look over at the naked body next to him, fell asleep soon after.

* * *

He was the first to wake up, which wasn't a surprise to him as Blaine had 16 shots of vodka and he only had 4. He had a naked and warm body tangled around him and something hard poking his thigh. Mike swallowed and slowly moved out of Blaine's grip. He stumbled away from the bed and blinked quickly at his surroundings. His head felt mildly painful but the water he managed to consume the night before saved him from a very heavy hangover. Keating was already awake and peering at him from behind the arm of the couch.

"Off, Keat, off," Mike pulled the dog off the couch and yawned as he made his way over to the kitchen part of Blaine's room. He peered in the fridge for a good hangover remedy for when Blaine would wake. There was nothing but an empty bag with the remains of the sandwich he had for lunch the day before.

Mike shook his head and patted his dog, "watch out for Blaine and I'll be right back." When he returned to Blaine's room with a jug of milk and a few other household necessitates, he also brought a change a shirt to put on, not wanting to put his jacket back on. After setting down the food he threw his shirt over his shoulders as he looked to Keating. "We'll give him some time to sleep in, yes?" He said as he began to button up his shirt.

"Oh fuck. Fucking fuck," Mike turned to see that Blaine was sitting up in the bed with his eyes wide and staring at him while his hand was pulling the sheets up over his hips. "Fuck, Michael. I am so sorry," Blaine's voice was horse as he kicked his legs over the edge of the bed and slid his boxers back on. He quickly tugged his pants up and clasped them together while hoping over to Mike, his eyes still wide and worried.

"Whoa, what? Why?"

"I'm not-I didn't get you drunk to do that-" Blaine stopped talking and he ducked his head down, Mike could see a blush spreading all the way down to his neck.

Mike burst into laugh, which he was sure wasn't good for Blaine's head so he quickly stifled it. He placed his hands on Blaine's shoulders as an attempt to calm him down. "Blaine, nothing like that happened."

"But you're getting dress and I was naked," Blaine spluttered.

"I was just changing my clothes and you took your own off last night," Mike explained quickly.

"Oh good. God. Good. That would have been so weird," Blaine breathed out and grinned awkwardly up at Michael, "because me and you? That was would be super weird, right? I'm glad that we didn't have to go through any of that awkwardness. Like yeah, hah, gross, right? Right." Blaine was carrying on so fast but Mike could easily understand what Blaine was trying to say to him.

He internally snapped. This was the breaking point. He always knew that he didn't have a chance with Blaine, but this was too much of a reminder, too much of a slap to face. It was then he decided that, for his own sake, he needed to get away from Blaine.

He dropped his hands away from Blaine's shoulders and snapped his fingers for Keating to come to his side. "We better go," he managed to say. "Gotta do that morning run thing. Keating is restless without it, you know."

"It's a little late for that, don't you think?" Blaine's voice sounded disappointed but Mike couldn't manage a look. Instead he stared down at his dog, those wide dark eyes seemed to be worried about him. Keating's usually opened and excited mouth was closed as he looked up at his owner, his head tilting questioningly to the side. He always felt like Keating could read his emotions. Some days he would come home after a hard day and Keating would cuddle, other days he would arrive after a good day and the dog would have his tail wagging and his head tilted up excitedly. Now Keating looked like he was frowning.

"We should go."

"Will I see you again?"

"Blaine, I'm your neighbor, of course you'll see me."

The dog bit the sleeve of Michael's shirt and tugged him toward the door.

"I meant will I see you later today? For lunch?"

"We'll see. I've got a busy schedule."

"Don't you schedule the lunch breaks?" Blaine eyed him suspiciously.

"Yeah but it's a wrap up. I need to fine tune things. Work before pleasure or whatever."

Just as he reached the door he felt something buzz in his pocket. He reached in and pulled out Blaine's phone with Daniel's icon showing on the screen. He felt the familiar sting in his chest he felt so many other times, but this time it was accompanied by a hallow feeling inside his stomach. It was like he was starving but couldn't find something to feed his hunger.

He placed the phone on top of the TV set, not wanting to look back at Blaine, and walked out.

When Mike and Keating reached his room and the door was shut behind them Mike finally let himself go and slid down the back of his door. He didn't really feel like crying, or even making a sound for the matter, he merely leaned his head back and gazed at the ceiling. Keating whimpered a bit and placed his head on Mike's knee, licking his hand in comfort.

He didn't know why he was feeling so worthless and heartbroken when all Blaine did was confirm everything he knew about his chances with him. He knew there was no interest on Blaine's side. He knew that Blaine only saw friendship between that two of them. Blaine's words made the little hope he had push past all of that die, leaving him a hunger instead of a restlessness. He couldn't do it anymore. He needed to think about what was good for him and for Blaine.

* * *

He didn't see or talk to Blaine for two weeks after that, he made sure of it. He knew Blaine's schedule like the back of his hand and could easily avoid his neighbor. He ignored the casual text that Blaine would send every day. He returned to his old routine of eating lunch at the studio and returning home at midnight instead of the time Blaine usually came home and managed to be perfectly silent when he was at home the same time Blaine was, especially when an occasional knock echoed on his door.

He still was true to his word about calling someone to get an audition for Blaine. He praised Blaine over the phone to a few of his regular directors and managed to get them interest in Blaine. It wasn't hard for him to go on about Blaine's talents because they were some of the things that made Michael love him. It was hard for him to think about Blaine singing and how badly he longed to hear it again. Blaine didn't even sing when he walked down the hall to his apartment any more, not that Mike was listening for it or anything.

"Mike, are you feeling okay?" He looked up from his lunch and glanced over at his friend.

"I'm fine, Rach," he muttered before jabbing his fork deep into his salad.

"You just seem a little down and-," Rachel bit down on her bottom lip and shook her head. "Nevermind."

Mike looked at her with a strange expression before returning to his meal. He didn't want to think or talk about the emptiness that was eating away at him. He shoved more of the salad into his mouth and chewed it quickly. It was something he picked up at a grocery store, flimsy and old, unlike the salads that Blaine used to make whenever they used to eat dinner together. He ate is so quickly that some of the dressing was spilling out of the corner of his mouth.

"How is my form?"

Mike glanced back up at her as she did a pirouette on the wooden floor, her slippers making that pleasant squeaking noise as she spun around and around. Rachel never ate lunch during rehearsals; she always used the extra time to practice. She and Mike went way back, they were friends in high school, and she was sometimes a part of the cast he was in charge of for choreography. So they had breaks from each other as well, which was good considering the fact that they only had two things in common, ambition and broadway fame (though she had a little bit more than him in both categories.)

"Beautiful as always, Rachel," he replied after swallowing the rest of his salad.

"Thank you, Mr. Chang," he did a little curtsy and laughed.

They talked a few minutes before coming to one of Rachel's favorite topics, love interests. Rachel had long ago broken up with her highs school boyfriend, Finn, and pursued the heart of another Broadway star, Jesse St. James. Mike didn't support it, he thought Jesse was far too arrogant and boastful (Mike had helped with a few of his productions before and didn't see the appeal.) Rachel was the only one to really contribute to the topic, considering Mike's six months of blind dates and heavy sighs brought nothing interesting to it.

"Uhm," Rachel said with clear hesitation as she tightened her slippers, "earlier today some guy tried to enter the studio. Of course I had to forbid him to enter because I didn't want someone to try and steal you away from our production again." Mike smiled, remembering the time a rival theater had tried to bribe him to join their team instead. Naturally he rejected the offer. "But he said that he needed to talk to you as a friend and he was nearly in tears, you know these theater types, always over dramatic about everything" she waved a hand nonchalantly as if she couldn't be classified as a 'theater type'. "I told him that he could schedule an appointment with you after we finished with you. He was in hysterics, it was ridiculous. So he gave me this," she handed over a slip of paper. "I told him I would give this to you as much as I dislike those leaches that try to steal you from us, I have to keep my word."

Mike held back a laugh and took the slip of paper from her. He opened it up and read the small note:

_Michael, I stopped by to see if you were going to have lunch with me today. I tired texting you but I think you're busy. It's okay if you're busy. I hope I can see you tonight? Of course you still might be too busy I guess. It's okay if you're busy, I understand. Also, if you didn't get my text I wanted to thank you for contacting that guy. He called me again today and I have my audition tomorrow. Okay that's all. –Blaine. _

He felt his entire body go numb as he read and re-read the tiny note. He didn't distress in the words themselves but the way the handwriting was so shaky and scratchy with barely a trace of Blaine's normal handwriting.

"You said he was upset?"

"Well he wasn't until I said that you couldn't see him, then he started crying. Then I told him that he could make an appointment he really started to sob, and then he wrote the note and left it with me."

"I doubt he was that distressed." Mike said more to himself than to her.

"Who was he?"

"My neighbor."

"A friend?"

"No, just my neighbor."

"Nothing's wrong with him," Mike shoved the note into his pocket.

Rachel gave him a deep look that reminded him a lot of Blaine. She stared expectantly at Mike the way Blaine used to whenever Mike set him up for a story. He supposed he was just seeing Blaine Anderson's traits in other people now, perhaps it was because of his ache to knock on Blaine's door every time he passed it that he felt so stuck in visions of Blaine's face.

"I'm looking for a new apartment, do you know of any good ones?"

Rachel frowned and sat down in front of him. "There is one below mine that just went out for rent but…"

"What?"

"That floor doesn't really have the right kind of neighbors."

Michael rolled his eyes scooped up the remainder of his food into his mouth.

"I'm not looking for neighbors, Rach. I'm looking for a new apartment."

Rachel looked as if she were about to speak but the room door opened and some of the dancers filed in, interrupting their conversation. She gave him that look again and stood up to get ready for more practice, the determination was clear in her eyes as she looked back at him, but he stared back with his expertly stoic face and jumped up as well to instruct the cast, making sure to pull Brittany away from one of the dancers before getting started.

The conversation left Mike distracted for the rest practice. If it was true that Blaine was distressed, Michael ached to help him. But he knew that it would not be good for his own health to stick around Blaine and pretend to be friends when his heart would only beat for something more. It would always be better for him to stay away from Blaine. He was sure Blaine would forget all about him in time. _But I will never forget him._

Mike arrived at the apartment building a little earlier than planned because of his distracted mind. Thankfully, Blaine wasn't in the hall when he arrived so he silently made his way into his apartment. His mind was focus on the note resting in his pocket.

He fell with a flop onto his couch and sighed heavily as Keating walked slowly out of the bedroom and tucked his head under Michael's arm. Mike wished that his do would be happy and jumpy like he was two weeks ago but his dog was loyal to the very last emotion. He lazily stroked Keating's ears before looking around at his apartment. What was once a story of his efforts and achievements was now a bunch of boxes and a few unpacked trinkets.

Mike closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to see the emptiness that his apartment had become over the past two weeks. He thought of a time when he was newly getting to know Blaine and his emotions weren't strong. He remembered when Blaine had quizzed him about where all of his furniture was imported from and Blaine's astounded reactions to each of them.

_"You have very nice furniture."_

_ "It's all imported," He turned around to face Blaine, who was admiring the wooden table. _

_ "Why?"_

_ "I like authenticity? It's expensive but," Michael sat next to him and placed a hand on the table and rubbed over its notches. "Someone spent time on this, they worked hard to make this. It was copied and mass produced. It was made by a carpenter, not a robot. That is why it cost so much because more work and," Mike shrugged his lips and tapped along the wooden table beneath his hands, "love. they made it with love and connected with it. Love has its price and I'm willing to pay it."_

_ "How very romantic," Blaine leaned on his hand and smiled over at him making Mike stir awkwardly in his seat._

_ "Not all love is romantic," he stood up and moved back to the counter to get the coffee. _

_ "Hmmm, but all devotion is."_

_ "Devotion to an appreciation of love is romantic?" Mike furrowed his eyebrows again as he handed Blaine his coffee and pushed a small tray of sugar and cream toward Blaine._

_ "Yes," Blaine raised his eyebrows while he nodded his head and pulled the tray closer to him. _

_ "I suppose romance doesn't always have to involve kisses and devotion between two people."_

Mike opened his eyes again and stared up at his ceiling, his teeth slipping over his bottom lip as he thought about the way Blaine looked at him that day, like he was some kind of breath of fresh air. Then he thought of the poorly handwritten note still in his pocket and he ached for a different reason. He didn't want to hurt Blaine. He didn't want Blaine to think that he was hated.

He sat up and glanced at the door, thinking that maybe he should go and explain everything to Blaine, so everything would be understood as to why he couldn't be around Blaine anymore and why he was moving out of an apartment he thought he would never leave.

Mike felt like a different part of him was responding to these thoughts and he didn't realize that he was up and walking toward the door until he heard the click of Keating's feet trot next to him. Too late now, can't go back. He opened the door while his mind worked out all of the things he was going to say. His mind froze when he examined the scene that opening the door showed to him, Blaine being pressed against the wall next to his door and being kissed passionately by, not really to Michael's surprise, Daniel.

He stared at the sight for a few moments longer before retreating back into his room and shutting the door a little too loudly and locking it for good measure just in time to hear his own name being called out by Blaine. Mike heard shouting coming from the hallway, two voices that regularly argued but probably for the first time in weeks. Mike went back to his old ways of drowning them out and sat down on the couch. Keating followed and rested his head on his lap.

After a few minutes the shouting died down and Mike was surprised to hear a knock on the door. "Michael, I know you're there. I just saw you. Please open the door," He could hear what Rachel was describing earlier in Blaine's voice, the sort of distress that would cause any one else to break and comfort right there. "Michael, you're avoiding me. Why? What did I do? Y-you can't do this to me because we're not just neighbors that avoid each other now. You can't go back to those days. You just can't do this. "

He watched the light seeping through the crack under his door flicker as Blaine paced in front of it. He breathed in and out and gripped tightly onto his knees, resisting every urge to jump up and pretend to be Blaine's friend again. Mr. Keating noticed his restlessness and turned his head toward the door, growling loudly at it.

"Keat? Keating," Blaine's voice called out and the dog stepped back and whimpered a little, before looking up at Michael, asking him what to do. "Keating, grab Michael and pull him to the door now, I know you can do it, I've seen you do it before. Get Michael over here now."

Mr. Keating looked from the door to Michael, obviously confused about what he was supposed to do. Michael shook his head and the dog rested his head on his lap before growling at the door again.

The shadow of Blaine's pacing in front of the door remained for a few minutes before the sound of his door slamming resounded through-out the apartment building. Mike thought he heard the last of it and was about to lie back on his couch and stare at his ceiling fan when the door slammed again and Mike heard a strange scratching noise at his door and saw the shadow of someone's feet under the door again.

"Blaine?" Mike said loudly as he jumped off the couch, "what are you doing?"

Blaine didn't answer but the scratching continued and Mike was pretty sure as to what Blaine was trying to do. In reaction, Mike moved over to the door and opened it to reveal Blaine with a card and a wire hanger. Mike stared down at him in slight shock that Blaine was trying to break into his apartment, and hurt from seeing that face again after two weeks of avoiding it.

"I was trying to break into your room," Blaine mumbled as he stood up and pushed past Mike to get into the apartment. "Why are you avoiding me?" He whipped around and Mike could feel the heat of Blaine's glare burning him, his heart beat increasing even more as Blaine stepped a little closer.

"I'm busy," Mike tried to explain pathetically. This earned a shove from Blaine and caused him to stagger back a little.

"That's what I thought at first but for two weeks? You couldn't even give me a wave or a hello during your busy, busy schedule?" Blaine continued to shove at Mike until the latter was backed up against the balcony doors of his apartment.

"Jesus, Blaine," Mike replied, his hands raised up in defense.

"Just tell me the truth," Blaine stopped shoving him and placed his hands on Mike's chest instead. Mike cringed, not wanting Blaine to feel how hard his heart was pounding inside of him. "Did we have sex? Is that why you're avoiding me?"

Mike almost laughed again, but his chest was too sore to laugh. "We didn't Blaine, we didn't."

"Then what did I do?" Blaine shouted, his eyes flaring up with rage. "Why are you doing this to me?" He removed his hands from Michael's chest and turned to move into the TV room. Mike wanted to stop him from going in any further, but he was too late, Blaine's shoulders were already slumped dejectedly. "A-are you moving?" His voice was barely a whisper, which hurt Mike more than his shouting. "Why are you punishing me? What did I do?"

"Y-you didn't do anything," Michael's voice cracked as he walked up behind Blaine. He reached out and grabbed Blaine's shoulder to spin him around. Even though Blaine was facing him he still didn't look him in the eye. "I just need to get out of here."

"Why?" Blaine didn't sound angry any more, he sounded hurt and sad. "Where?"

"I haven't figured where yet but I just have to go."

"Why?" Blaine asked a little louder.

"Because," Mike finally looked up and into those large hazel eyes. "Because it's better for you."

Blaine's eyes widened but then quickly narrowed into a glare. He stepped close to Michael, causing the latter to hold his breath."Why is it better for me, Michael? And why do you think that you get to have a say in what is _better _for me."

"How would you feel if you knew someone was in love with you and you didn't love them back, Blaine? Is that something you want to feel?"Mike felt light-headed after saying it.

Blaine's expression froze in realization and the moment of silence dragged on painfully for Mike. Blaine finally tore his eyes away from Mike and looked down at his feet. Mike could see tears starting to form on the edge of those long, dark eyelashes. Blaine stepped back and Mike found himself craving that closeness one more time as he started speaking. "It must be miserable. Holding that kind of power over someone but caring about them too much to actually use it. Holding that love but not being able to return it. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He wiped at his eyes with the back of his sleeve and sniffed.

Mike breathed in and out harshly, still a little surprised by Blaine's reaction.

Blaine moved toward the door, giving Mr. Keating a soft stroke on the head before resting his hand on the threshold. He turned and looked over at Mike, tears shinning in his eyes and tripping off his long eyelashes. "I'm so sorry that you found out. I sh-shouldn't have even talked to you in the first place. A-and, I'm so sorry."

"Blaine? What?" Mike stepped forward, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion. He almost reached out to rest his hand on Blaine's shoulder but pulled his hand back the last second. "Found out what?"

Blaine huffed and looked down at his feet again. He turned his hand around as Keating licked it in a comforting way. "You can't make me say it aloud, Michael. I don't want you to hear it. I don't want you to feel that way. You shouldn't be the one moving, you built this place around you, and you've put so much of yourself into this apartment. You can't just let me come in and ruin it all," Blaine's words were jumpy and his chest heaved as he tried to hold back sobs.

"You didn't ruin anything, Blaine," Mike stepped forward without a second thought and threw his arms around him. Blaine was stiff under his arms for a moment until he felt fingers gripping at the front of his shirt. It felt achingly good to have Blaine so desperately clinging to him. "It's my fault."

"I suppose I could blame you," Blaine replied with a short laugh into Mike's neck. "After all it is mostly your fault that I fell in love with you."

Michael felt himself freeze at those words and then suddenly there was such incredible warmth seeping through him and he held onto Blaine tighter, just so the latter couldn't get away while he thought of all the right words that he needed to say. "Blaine?" He moved his mouth near Blaine's ear and felt him shiver under his hands. "It's your fault, too. You know? Making me fall in love with you. You didn't even give me a chance to decide if I wanted to or not." Blaine's hands instantly loosened from gripping onto his shirt and they quickly pressed at Mike's chest so he was pushed back a little. Blaine was staring at him, reading his expression for any sign of falsehood.

Mike decided not to let Blaine come to the wrong conclusion and quickly pressed his mouth to Blaine's, causing a muffled gasp to come from the latter until he finally relaxed and pushed back. Mike couldn't describe what exactly he was feeling as Blaine's arms moved up to wrap around his neck. It was warmth and peace, it was everything Mike ever needed in one moment.

They kiss in his hallway for long enough to get Keating impatient, he ended up barking loudly until they finally pulled away and looked down at them. The dog jumped up and started whining, as if he wanted to be kissed as well, but Mike only snapped his fingers and ordered him to jump down before scratching him behind the ear. Blaine's arms were still wrapped lazily over Mike's shoulders and he was smiling down at the dog, his cheeks red and his mouth in a permanent grin. They both watched as Keating bounded back toward the living room and started chewing on and scratching on the side of a box.

"I think he wants you to unpack."

"I think that's a pretty good idea."


End file.
